


Only for You

by SomewhereFlying



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex Pollen, Spoilers, Status Effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereFlying/pseuds/SomewhereFlying
Summary: Struck by a mysterious spell, Crow fled from battle, and despite knowing what he knew about the Thieves' newest member, Joker followed him - alone. He didn’t expect to find him in such a compromising state, desperate for the kind of assistance you didn't justgiveto a mere teammate…Luckily, their relationship had never been quite so simple.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 39
Kudos: 494





	Only for You

**Author's Note:**

> This story will contain spoilers for **Akechi's Rank 8 Confidant (Royal)** and **the entire 6th Palace through November 20th (Royal/Vanilla)**. That's all!

* * *

By their third infiltration into Sae’s Palace, Akira had become fairly confident that he had seen all the casino had to offer, yet when he stepped into the glass elevator that afternoon and found a new, unmarked button sitting smack in the middle of the control panel, he couldn’t help but be curious. 

“This place isn’t on the map,” Futaba had warned him, but then Morgana had chimed in with “there could be treasure!” and that was the end of that conversation. Even the pragmatists of the group couldn’t resist the allure of hidden, unknown treasure – they _were_ Thieves, after all. 

The elevator deposited them halfway between the member’s and high roller’s floors, opening up onto a balcony of sorts that overlooked the rest of the casino. Far below, dozens of glittering slot machines dotted the floor, each whirring and beeping noisily as the cognitive subjects of Sae’s mind set about playing rigged games, hoping for a chance to hit the jackpot. It was beautiful, Akira thought, in a decadent, hedonistic kind of way, but for the people who knew Sae Niijima personally, it must have been very difficult to see her mind so thoroughly warped by her newfound ambition.

“What is this place?” Ann asked. “Some kinda stage?”

“Looks that way,” Akira said. To their left, the floor opened up into a broad, spacious room, with a raised platform up against the back wall and a handful of large circular tables spread out before it – the perfect place for dinner and a show. It reminded Akira a little of Jazz Jin, albeit significantly more gaudy and quite notably devoid of any customers. 

“What, like for bands and shit?” Ryuji asked. “I guess live entertainment at a casino kinda makes sense.”

“I get the feeling this stage is for more than mere music,” Akechi said. “Look.”

He pointed to the far end of the stage, where a few shadows were roaming around just behind the curtain. Even from this distance, it was clear they were humanoid and feminine, but it was hard to tell much more than that with their masks still firmly in place.

“Live performers,” Yusuke said. “Although there doesn’t seem to be anyone here at the moment.”

“Whatever their purpose in the real world, they’re just shadows in here,” Morgana said. “Joker, we should be cautious, but if we’re planning on exploring without a map, don’t you think it’s best if we get rid of them?”

Akira nodded. He signaled for the others to group up behind him – Akechi, Ann, and Morgana on the front lines – and carefully began to sneak around the floor’s many empty tables until the shadows were within reach. Then he leapt from cover, landing on a shadow’s back and tearing her mask forcibly from her face, causing her to scream and shatter. 

When she reformed, she had turned from an amorphous shadow into a tall, elegant woman. She looked familiar, the devilish wings protruding from her back reminding Akira of the succubi he had fought so many times in Mementos, but she was dressed more extravagantly than any shadow he had ever seen and stood several feet taller than any of the Thieves. 

“This opponent is strong,” Makoto warned from her position on the sidelines. “Don’t do anything reckless.” 

“Panther, Crow, start searching for weaknesses,” Akira ordered, unsheathing his dagger and menacing it in the shadow’s direction. “Mona, be prepared to heal if she retaliates.” 

His teammates chorused their responses: “You got it, chief!” from Morgana; “Right, Joker!” from Ann; and from Akechi, a look of firm resolve and a single word, “Understood.” 

Spells began to fly from both sides of the fray, and at first, Akira thought nothing of the way the shadow giggled at them, the way she seemed so arrogant despite being surrounded by four Thieves, but it quickly became obvious that their attacks weren’t doing much – the shadow seemed to shrug off every hit without so much as flinching. Akira pulled the team back, focusing on defense, and while he sifted through his mind in search of a Persona that could weaken his foe, the shadow made a bold move. 

First, she let loose a whirlwind of blows that nearly knocked Akira off his feet. Then, once she had put some distance between herself and the Thieves, she stalked around in a circle and surveyed them each in turn, as if appraising animals for the slaughter. Finally, she stopped in front of Akechi, who glared defiantly at her. Smirking, she tossed him a wink and blew him a kiss, and Akira rolled his eyes, waiting for Akechi to fire a laser beam between her eyes in retaliation. 

Except Akechi… didn’t. He staggered backwards, dropping his ray gun to the ground and clutching his forehead as the smirk on the shadow’s face grew longer. 

“Ugh. C’mon Crow, did you get brainwashed already?” Akira heard Futaba chastise them from above. “Cover him, guys; I’ll see if I can’t snap him out of it…” 

Morgana sighed in over-the-top exasperation. “Leaving me to pick up the slack, as usual,” he said, grinning brightly as he leapt forward on a gust of wind, striking back at the shadow while she gloated. 

To Akira’s left, Akechi swayed uneasily on his feet. 

“Crow?” Akira asked. 

Abruptly, Akechi jerked his head in Akira’s direction. Beneath his mask, his eyes were hazy and unfocused, but he stared at Akira with unblinking eye contact that sent something electric crackling through Akira’s chest. Then, with one last, fleeting look at the battlefield, Akechi turned on his heel and fled the scene, darting back to the elevator and disappearing around a corner. 

“H-hey! Crow’s runnin’ away!” Ryuji barked, trying and failing to stop him as he ran past. 

“Leave him, leave him!” Futaba snapped. “She’s trying to get everyone to scatter. Focus on one thing at a time!” 

Equal parts worried and irritated, Akira whipped around and turned his fury on the shadow. She seemed frustrated now; whatever she had hoped to accomplish with that gambit, it had clearly failed, and her attacks lost their earlier grace, allowing the remaining Thieves to weaken her defenses and tear her down in mere moments. Her body had barely hit the floor before Akira whipped around to seek out his next victim, but the other shadows had fled backstage during their battle, leaving the Thieves alone. 

“Sooo…” Ryuji said, strolling back over to the main team, “Crow ditched, huh?”

“Do you think this is related to… y’know?” Ann asked. 

“No,” Akira said firmly. “We know his plan. It’s too intricate for him to start improvising at this point. I think something happened during the battle.” 

“That shadow definitely did something to him,” Futaba chimed in. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.” 

“Should we chase after him?” Haru asked, looking back down the hall. There was no sign of movement from the direction in which Akechi had fled. 

“…no,” Akira said again. He fished his member’s card out of his pocket and held it out to Makoto. “Let me look for him. The rest of you should head up to the high roller’s floor and scout ahead. Then we can meet back up by the elevator once I’ve found him.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Yusuke asked. “Knowing what we know…” 

With a sigh, Makoto stepped forward and took the card from Akira’s hand. “I hate to say it, but Joker’s logic is sound,” she said. “Crow trusts him more than any of the rest of us. If we all try to hunt him down, he may attempt to flee even further.” 

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Morgana said. “But still… be careful, Joker.” 

“Of course,” Akira promised. “When am I not?” 

The others did not seem to find his joke quite as funny as he did. 

After seeing his friends off at the elevator, Akira turned to face the long, winding hallway before him. Crow was back there somewhere, but this segment of the casino was uncharted territory, meaning caution was the name of the game as Akira crept off down the hallway in search of his lost teammate. 

This floor, Akira decided after a few minutes of exploring, must have been a place for customers to relax and recharge. After leaving the stage, Akira found himself passing through a restaurant, dashing between long tables covered with lavish dishes, and from there, to some kind of lounge area. It was much quieter here, far from the noisy slot machines back on the main floor, and there were dozens of oversized couches and chairs to comfort the casino’s many weary patrons. Shadow presence here was light, but still noticeable, and more importantly, the whole floor was kind of a mess, as if someone incredibly uncoordinated had been passing by… or someone stuck in a battle-induced stupor. 

Finally, after following the trail of minor destruction to its conclusion, Akira tracked Akechi down. His bright white uniform gave him away – it really wasn’t a thief’s outfit at all, was it? Just like Akechi himself wasn’t a Thief, not really – and Akira found him hiding behind a large decorative planter, hugging his knees to his chest and breathing hard. 

“Crow,” Akira called. “Are you okay?” 

Akechi turned his head sluggishly, like he was drugged, and stared blankly at Akira. 

“Joker.” 

“Yeah.” Akira took a few steps closer. “Hey, can you stand? Let’s get to a safe room.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Akira offered his hand. Akechi startled at the gesture before comprehension sank in, and he reluctantly accepted Akira’s offer. His touch was weak, and he didn’t complain as Akira all but carried him back to a safe room situated just outside the restaurant. 

That really should have been Akira’s first clue that something was gravely wrong with Akechi. 

The second the door closed, Akira felt hands on his shoulders. Akechi spun him around, his grip suddenly ten times stronger than the kitten-weak touch he’d used to take Akira’s hand, and shoved him against the door with alarming force, glaring at him from behind his mask. Akira gasped involuntarily, the impact knocking his breath away. 

“ _Joker,_ ” Akechi growled. He was shaking intensely; whatever that spell had done to him, it was really potent. “You— nngh… I really hate you, you know.” 

“So you’ve said,” Akira quipped. He took a deep breath, tentatively pushing back to test Akechi’s hold and finding it unwaveringly solid. In retaliation, Akechi gripped even harder, digging his gloved fingers into Akira’s shoulders. 

“ _You_ … you drive me completely insane,” Akechi continued, as if Akira hadn’t spoken up at all. “And I can’t stop thinking about you…” 

“Crow,” Akira said, careful to keep his tone deceptively calm. “That shadow hit you with some kind of status effect, right? Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

“Feeling,” Akechi repeated. He laughed a choked, hysterical laugh. “Yes, I’m _feeling_ – and that’s the problem.” 

One of Akechi’s hands dropped to his holster, and he retrieved his gun, which he promptly pressed against Akira’s chin. 

“If I kill you… do you think these feelings will go away?” 

Akira swallowed, his jaw pushing uncomfortably against the gun. Although his heart was beating rapidly in his chest, the sheer mortal terror of having a deadly weapon pointed at him was dulled by the fact that this was the second time Akechi had done so in less than a week. Akira knew better than to assume this was a genuine threat on his life; it was not yet Akira’s time to die, and Akechi had the self-discipline not to pull the trigger until it _really_ counted… or at least, he usually did. With the way the spell was affecting him, Akira wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Crow,” Akira said again, wrapping his hand around the gun barrel without trying to push it away, “calm down and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Akechi sneered at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be our leader? Figure it out.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be my teammate?” Akira countered. “Communication is important, you know.”

Somehow, _that_ was what got Akechi to finally relent. He pulled away, staring at the gun in his hand like it was a foreign object before shoving it back into its holster. 

“God, you… would make such a terrible detective,” Akechi muttered. He leaned against the wall, looking wearily at Akira. “You need to think. What sort of shadow were we just fighting? You must have seen one before.”

“Sure,” Akira said. “It was a succubus. There’s a ton in Mementos. It’s strange; she should have been weaker.” 

“Don’t get caught up on trivial details. Those creatures… what are they traditionally known for?” 

“They’re…” 

_Demons,_ he thought. _Supernatural creatures that stoke sexual desire in mortals in order to feed off their energy, but…_

The gears in Akira’s mind began to turn, and slowly, the pieces began to snap together: the glossed-over look in his eyes, his labored breathing, the heavy red blush staining his cheeks – that succubus’s spell had sent Akechi into a lustful haze… and he still hadn’t recovered. 

“O-oh,” Akira stammered, his face going hot beneath his mask. As he let his attention trail slowly down, he discovered he could easily see the outline of Akechi’s arousal beneath his slacks. “That’s…”

“I _know,_ ” Akechi said, shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his jaw. 

“Do you need me to leave you alone for a while?” 

Akechi scoffed so hard he nearly choked. “Don’t think that wasn’t the first thing I thought to try,” he snapped. “Why do you suppose I ran off during battle?” He took a deep breath before continuing, in a smaller voice, “It’s… useless. It feels like nothing. I can’t – I have no choice but to wait out its effects.” 

Akira swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling thick. When he had set off in pursuit of Akechi, he certainly hadn’t expected to find him afflicted by something like _this_. Usually status effects wore off a few seconds after battle – a few minutes at worst – but the succubus was long dead and the battle long over. If this spell was going to wear off on its own, it would have done so already. 

So then, perhaps – like slapping someone with a harisen – there was another way to cure Akechi’s ailment. 

Akira could think of a few ways. 

With a joyless smile, Akechi let his head drop back and hit the wall with a dull thud. 

“To think I was laid low by such a prurient shadow… I must look truly pathetic,” he said. 

“It’s not pathetic,” Akira said. He could hardly hear his own thoughts over the sound of blood pounding through his veins, but he choked down his anxiety enough to say, “And if it’s really bothering you, then we could, uh… I feel like we could probably expedite the recovery process.” 

Akechi’s eyes widened in shock, not that Akira could blame him. Neither of them could deny that there was _some_ thing drawing the pair together, but they had always danced around it, kept it hidden beneath a layer of pleasantries and friendly competition. Akira didn’t know if he should call it attraction – if it was just a side-effect of their ever-growing rivalry or something more – but up until now, they each had been perfectly content to revel in the tension that existed between them without ever acknowledging it. 

To suggest something like this was an outright breach of that unspoken agreement. 

“What… are you _dense?_ ” Akechi finally asked, the shock on his face morphing into irritation. “It was a spell… a poison. We have no idea the consequences. What if giving in to these urges kills me?” 

“The battle’s over,” Akira said with a shrug. “We killed that shadow. Anything happening to you now is just a side-effect.”

“Perhaps, but as I said, I’ve already attempted to relieve my _condition_ on my own. Or are you so arrogant as to presume that your touch would produce different results?” 

“You never know,” Akira said, with more conviction than he felt. Sure, Akechi sounded defiant, but he couldn’t hold Akira’s eye while he spoke, and Akira took this moment of vulnerability to step closer, facing Akechi directly. “We don’t have to do anything, but… I’m telling you that if you need a partner, I’ll help you.” 

“Oh, would you just shut up?” Akechi snapped. He was glaring, but his face didn’t seem as sharp as it once had – a hint of desperation had sunk into his features, softening his eyes. “We’re alone… you don’t have to keep up the act.”

“Do you think I’m acting, Crow?” Akira asked. He leaned in, drawing close enough that he could touch him. With one hand, he pressed his fingertips against Akechi’s chest, slowly trailing down Akechi’s front and toying with the buttons on his suit. “I just thought that if you had to do this with anyone, you’d prefer someone you can trust.”

“ _Stop,_ ” Akechi snarled, striking Akira’s hand away. 

“Okay,” Akira said at once, retracting his hand. Akechi eyed him warily, a hint of confusion tingeing his features. 

“If you… if you’re just looking at me like a helpless teammate in need of aid, then don’t you dare touch me,” he said. 

“I’m not—” 

“ _This_ ,” Akechi cut him off to say, “is not the same as snapping someone out of their fear, or their confusion. You do not simply _help out_ with something like this, so tell me… what’s your angle, Joker?”

“No angle,” Akira said. “I just…”

The truth sat on the tip on his tongue, but his mouth had gone rough and dry. He wet his lips and swallowed roughly. 

“I want it to be me. Thinking about you doing this with someone else… I don’t like it.” 

Akechi pressed himself flat against the wall, saying nothing, his eyes dark and locked onto Akira’s. Whatever resolve he’d had before, it was beginning to crumble now that he had gleaned the hidden meaning behind Akira’s offer

“That’s… irrelevant,” he said when he found his voice again. “I highly doubt you have the necessary tools on you right now. Unless it’s standard Thief protocol to fuck while on a mission?” 

“I was thinking I could blow you,” Akira said. He rubbed the back of his neck, twisted a few strands of hair between his fingers to distract himself from the heat rising just under his own skin. “You, uh. Seem a little too impatient for anything involving prep.”

“…what a magnanimous leader you are,” Akechi sneered, and while he tried to lace his voice with the same venom from earlier, a certain breathiness had crept into his tone now. “Are you always so willing to debase yourself for the sake of your teammates?”

Akira frowned. “I already told you, I’m not doing this because I’m your _leader,_ Crow,” he said, and as he spoke, he removed Joker’s mask from his face, tossing it carelessly aside. He reached out again, and this time Akechi didn’t flinch away, allowing Akira to run a hand tenderly over his cheek, to slip his fingertips beneath the edge of Crow’s mask. Carefully, he lifted it up and away, discarding it on the floor beside his own mask. “And I don’t drop to my knees for just anyone.”

Akechi, unmasked and wholly open to Akira for the first time, stared at him with a shimmer of heat in his eyes. 

“And yet here you are,” he said. 

“Here I am,” Akira agreed, sinking to the ground before Akechi. 

God, they were really doing this. _He_ was really doing this. Quickly, before his mind could catch up with his body, Akira ran his hands over Akechi’s thighs, smoothing out wrinkles in the taut fabric, and drew down Akechi’s zipper, tugging his clothes over the swell of his cock. Akira sucked in a long breath at the sight of him, his cock hard and curved and pinked at the tip, and a burst of arousal surged through his own limbs. He almost wanted to slap himself for acting so blatantly enthusiastic when he’d already seen Akechi _naked_ , for fuck’s sake, but somehow this Akechi, nearly completely clothed save for where Akira had exposed him, was far more alluring than the one who had been fully nude at the bath house. 

After peeling off his gloves, Akira ran a bare hand over the length of Akechi’s cock, pressing his lips against the tip in a quick, sticky kiss before licking all the way to the base, teasing him with a taste of what was to come. 

“Joker…”

His codename left Akechi’s mouth as something halfway between a gasp and a moan. He wasn’t begging, not verbally, but he was pleading with his eyes, desperate for Akira to grant him some kind of reprieve from the spell’s effect. Akira’s stomach dropped at the sight, and he barely contained the breathy moan that welled up in his throat. 

It occurred to him, suddenly, that he had never seen Akechi lose his cool before. He’d come close a few times, getting a little too worked up during battle, viciously tearing apart his foes, and of course there was their sparring match down in Mementos, Akechi’s impassioned declaration of hatred – but he’d never _truly_ come undone. Not in front of the other Thieves, anyway, and not even in front of Akira. 

He wondered if that was going to change today. 

Certain now that Akechi was good and slick with spit and precome, Akira placed his hands purposefully on Akechi’s hips. He pressed his tongue against the head of his cock, and Akechi trembled, his hand dropping to Akira’s head and pressing insistently. 

“Are – _a-ahh,_ ” Akechi cut himself off with a choked moan. “Are you going to _do_ something or not, Joker?” 

_Fuck_. The urgency, the desperation in his voice – it might have been the hottest thing Akira had ever heard. Spoken in that tone, there wasn’t a thing in the world Akira wouldn’t do for him. 

He parted his lips and sank his mouth over Akechi’s cock, his tongue curling around the head and lapping away another bead of pre-come from the tip. God, it was almost too much; Akechi overwhelmed his every sense, the weight of him in Akira’s mouth, the taste of him on Akira’s tongue, the scent of him filling Akira’s lungs with every ragged breath – it was _intoxicating_. Akira was drunk on him, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking hard, fully enveloping Akechi’s cock in his warm, wet mouth. 

This wasn’t exactly the way Akira had envisioned their first time going. It was rougher, more frantic than he’d hoped, the secret romantic inside him wishing they were at Leblanc or Akechi’s apartment, anywhere but this gaudy casino, but they simply didn’t have that luxury. And maybe, _maybe_ he shouldn’t have imagined such a thing at all, but he had, once or twice – dozens of times – and still, nothing he imagined could come close to the real thing. 

“God— _damn_ it,” Akechi snarled, tangling his fingers deeper into Akira’s messy locks and tugging. “Why are you so good at _everything?”_

Akira pulled his lips back in a long, slow drag down the length of Akechi’s cock, his mouth twisting up until he was practically smirking. Yes, maybe – maybe _that_ was how Akira should think about this whole situation, as another extension of his and Akechi’s little game. Akechi probably thought he was winning; maybe he thought that Akira had made a concession to him, getting down on his knees so quickly, but right now, Akira certainly didn’t _feel_ like he was losing – quite the opposite. 

Looking up at Akechi, who was writhing against the wall, open-mouthed and gasping in silent pleasure, Akira felt a rush of adrenaline so powerful it made his limbs go fuzzy. Akechi was quickly losing his composure as well as his ability to vocalize any kind of eloquent thought, and Akira had been the one to make him this way, so who was the _real_ winner here?

A strangled moan tore itself from Akechi’s throat, and he tightened his hold, thrusting his hips toward to meet Akira’s mouth. The head of his cock brushed against the back of Akira’s throat, and Akira swallowed around him, realizing that it couldn’t be long now, not with the way Akechi was trembling, his thigh muscles tensing, his fingers opening and closing helplessly in Akira’s hair…

“F-fuck,” Akechi gasped. “God, I’m… I—” 

Akechi’s hips snapped forward, burying his cock fully in Akira’s mouth and spilling come down his throat. Akira squeezed his eyes shut, relaxed his jaw, and drank down every drop of his release, happily allowing Akechi to ride out his pleasure for as long as he needed. Akechi whimpered and groaned, thrusting shallowly in and out of Akira’s mouth until he was fully spent, at which point the hand in Akira’s hair went slack. Hazily, he tugged his pants back into place and then slid to the ground, his eyes fluttering shut. 

Akira wiped off his chin with the back of his hand, flicking away the stray drops of come he hadn’t managed to swallow. Oh god, _swallow_ – heat crashed through his body when he registered what he had done, and he slipped a hand between his own legs, palming his cock from over his slacks. He was achingly hard. Maybe, Akira thought, before Akechi woke back up, he could just…

But then Akechi groaned and opened his eyes, blinking blearily, like he’d just woken up from a long sleep. 

“What…?” Akechi took a moment to get his bearings, and it was only when he caught sight of Akira, still flushed and breathing heavily, that he seemed to remember what had just happened. “Oh god, Joker,” he said. “I… I’m…” 

“Hey, ah – Crow,” Akira said. He made to grab Akechi’s hand, but Akechi pulled away too quickly, shrinking back against the wall. 

“You didn’t need to,” Akechi said. “You _shouldn’t_ have, not for me, for something like… like _this…_ ”

“Akechi – Goro.”

This, at last, got Akechi’s attention, and his rambling ceased. 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Akira said. “I promise.”

“But…” 

“I mean it.” Abruptly, Akira stood up, adjusting himself in a vain attempt to take a little pressure off of his cock. “I said I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, didn’t I? So don’t worry about it.”

“I see.” Akechi pursed his lips, his eyes flicking over Akira’s body, almost certainly spotting the way Akira was pressing his thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. “Joker,” he asked, “are you…?” 

“I said don’t worry about it,” Akira mumbled. Unable to keep looking Akechi in the face, Akira dragged himself over to one of the velvety purple sofas occupying the safe room. He collapsed into it, throwing one arm over the couch’s back, and let out a shaky sigh. “Do you need to rest some more, or are you ready to go find the others?” 

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Akechi said, “I… need to rest a bit longer, if you can forgive me.”

“Sure,” Akira said. “Take your time.” 

He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. His cock was begging for attention, but he remained resolute – he would not touch himself. Not yet. Later, perhaps, once he got home; he could already see himself sending Morgana away and lying down on the futon, and only then would he slide his hand under his waistband and curl his fingers around his cock. He tried to recall everything about Akechi – his scent, his moans, the taste of his come – and commit it to memory. 

He was pretty sure he’d never get off to another thought for as long as he lived. 

(which, granted, might not be a particularly impressive amount of time, but still.)

At some point, Akira became aware of Akechi moving across the room, coming to a halt beside the same couch on which Akira sat. He said nothing, just shifted around anxiously on his feet, and Akira looked up, raising an eyebrow. 

“What is it?” 

“You won’t tell the others, will you?” Akechi asked. 

“Of course not,” Akira said. 

Akechi frowned, almost like he was disappointed. “To be honest, it’s rather embarrassing,” he continued, sitting down on the couch beside Akira. “To fall victim to a shadow like that… I’d be really quite mortified if anyone else found out.” 

Akira started to say something, but then Akechi placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed, and his heart skipped a beat. He thought he understood where this was going, suddenly. 

Akechi’s lips twisted into an amused smirk. “Well, I supposed you can’t tell anyone,” he said. His fingertips danced over Akira’s thigh, pressing tantalizingly close to where his cock sat, trapped beneath his slacks. “If you did, I might have to tell them about you…”

His voice had turned low and throaty, simultaneously warm and rough, like smoke curling around Akira’s heart. 

“If you keep quiet, I’ll take care of you. What do you say?”

With that, Akechi lifted his free hand to his mouth and caught the tip of glove between his teeth, pulling it off with a single flourish. Akira tipped his head back and let out a low moan.

“Deal,” he said. 

“ _Perfect,_ ” Akechi purred. He tore off his second glove and unbuttoned Akira’s pants, nudging them just far enough down Akira’s hips that he could dip his hand inside and circle his bare fingers around Akira’s cock. 

Akira covered his mouth with a hand, dragging his fingers over his lips and biting down to hold back the obscene noise he was about to make. _Shit_ , he was even more sensitive than he’d realized, and Akechi was barely even touching him… 

“You’re harder than I thought you’d be,” Akechi murmured. “You really liked it this much? When I ravaged your mouth? Hmm… and I’m the one who blackmailed my way onto your team. Are you something of a masochist, Joker?”

Akira stuttered out a laugh and said, “Guilty.”

“Hm.” Akechi smile turned sharp, and he tightened his grip on Akira, swiping his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Well, so am I,” he said, and started to pump his hand in quick, even strokes. 

Akira pressed himself against the couch, squirming beneath Akechi’s skillful touch. The slick sound of skin stroking over skin mingled with Akira’s labored breathing, so loud that anyone walking could hear them and know _exactly_ what was going on within the safe room’s walls. An unrestrained moan slipped free of Akira’s throat, and he tensed up, his eyes darting towards the door. 

“What, are you worried about getting caught?” Akechi asked, following his line of sight. “Mm… you should be. Imagine what the others would think if their found their dear, dear leader panting and begging beneath my hand?”

Akira didn’t want to imagine it – yet couldn’t _help_ but imagine it – and somehow, that thought got him even hotter, brought him that much closer. _You won’t tell the others, will you?_ Akechi had asked. Ha, as if he had anything to worry about. Akira never even told the other Thieves about his nights out with Akechi… and he certainly wasn’t about to tell them about this. 

“Just kidding,” Akechi added, leaning in close, his breath tickling Akira’s neck. “There’s no way they’ll find us before you come. You’re close, aren’t you, Joker?”

Through a gasp, Akira managed to choke out, “’m not Joker.”

“What’s that?” 

“Not Joker.” 

“Hmm?” Akechi’s eyes sparkled dangerously. “Oh, you want me to call your name? Your _real_ name?” He chuckled darkly, pressing his lips against Akira’s neck. “Will that do it for you? If I moan your name, will you come for me, _Akira?_ ”

 _Yes_ , Akira wanted to say, _yes, fuck, yes –_ but the words stuck in his throat as he gasped and shook and came, wave after wave of white-hot pleasure coursing through his body, while Akechi stroked him through it all. 

When Akira was left with nothing more than shivery aftershocks, Akechi finally let him go, casually wiping his soiled hand on the couch.

“Well—”

But before Akechi could finish his thought, Akira grabbed him by the lapel of his coat and dragged him into a kiss. His technique was sloppy, each of them still dumb and dizzy in the wake of their orgasms, but that hardly mattered now – because to Akira’s surprise, Akechi immediately melted into it, kissing back like he was starving for Akira’s touch. Akira parted his lips and whined into the kiss until he felt Akechi do the same; eagerly, he slipped his tongue against Akechi’s, the inside of his mouth so slick and hot that Akira could feel a twinge of arousal stirring in his core again. 

_I want him,_ Akira realized, a ribbon of joy twisting to life in his stomach, warm and fuzzy. _I want this – I want him. Akechi…_

They were floating away in this hazy, dreamlike space, and for a moment, Akira felt like he had been flung years into an alternate future, one where Akechi didn’t plan to betray the team and shoot him dead in barely a week’s time. Had their rivalry been allowed a few more months, a few more years to flourish, maybe this was how it would have culminated – maybe this was how it was always _supposed_ to have been. 

They stayed close after breaking the kiss, their foreheads pressed together and breath mingling between parted lips. 

“Better?” Akira asked. 

“Ah… better,” Akechi said. His voice had gone flat again, a sign that his shields were slipping back into place, and he pulled back, clearing his throat. “It, um… it would seem that we both got a little carried away.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Akira said. He watched Akechi get to his feet, righting his pants and smoothing out his top, concealing any signs of their illicit affair, and knew that he, too, would have to do the same. They weren’t done with their song and dance yet, thief and detective, and as Akira cast his eyes around the room, his gaze finally fell on their discarded masks – Joker and Crow, lying side-by-side. Akira scooped them up, holding them gingerly in his hands. 

Once they put these back on, this really would be over. 

“Joker,” Akechi said. Akira turned around, holding out Crow's mask, which Akechi took with a look of mild surprise, like he had forgotten he’d ever taken it off. “O-oh, thank you. Um… I hope this won’t change anything between us.” 

To anyone else, it might have sounded earnest. Akira knew better. Outwardly, he nodded, but to himself, he quietly thought, 

_I sure hope it does._

**Author's Note:**

> Not birthday themed, but for Goro's birthday, anyway. ♥


End file.
